


Playmate

by thewolvesintherain



Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Faramir feels, Gen, Grieving, canon character death, lonely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolvesintherain/pseuds/thewolvesintherain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Set in the few months after the ring war, when Eowyn and Faramir are growing closer but still unmarried, after Aragorn has accepted the kingship and awarded Faramir the kingdom of Ithilien.The premise is that after the coronation, Faramir went to Dol Amroth for a time, along with Eowyn and Eomer, and the hobbits, to show them the seaside. Aragorn joined them later, along with Legolas, who was suffering from sea-fever, and Gimli.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playmate

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I’ve tried to keep this as canon as possible with Faramir’s cousins, and the rest of the Dol Amroth kin, but I’m unsure about some of the details. Hope this is what the original prompter was hoping for.

Imrahil, price of Dol Amroth and head of the house of swans, watched happily as his nephew and his youngest son turned back in towards the palace, goading their horses on and laughing as the surf splashed up into their faces. He had to smile as Amrothos lifted a hand and waved at him while Faramir clung tightly to his horse. He shook his head at their antics. It was good to see Far laughing again. He hadn’t seen such a thing in a long time.

He almost missed the quiet footsteps of the man he used to know as Thorongil as he wandered towards the balcony where Imrahil was. The prince of Dol Amroth nodded a greeting as he continued to watch his nephew and his son, looking inquiringly at the king as he said, “He looks much like his brother in this light.”  
Imrahil nodded, “They were much alike, the two of them. Boromir was always dragging Faramir into some sort of mischief.”

“Oh?” The king sounded curious, and Imrahil couldn’t resist, wishing to give Aragorn some idea of the man who was his steward outside of the official Faramir the king must be acquainted with. Besides, the tale was one the king would be sure to hear again someday soon, “Boromir convinced Faramir to bleach his hair blonde one summer, and then he dyed his hair red with Henna.”  
Aragorn looked at him, stunned, and Imrahil nodded, “The look on their father’s face was something I won’t forget anytime soon. Boromir especially took joy in it. They were almost of the same height, though Faramir is slimmer, and some of the council got them confused from behind all winter.”  
Aragorn shook his head, shaking with his stifled chuckles, “What possessed him to think of that?”  
Imrahil shrugged, “The ladies in court dye their hair often, I suppose Boromir got the idea from one of them. I’m never sure how he got Faramir to go along, the lad caught Holy Hell when he went back to his men.”  
Aragorn laughed aloud, shaking his head, “I wouldn’t have imagined it. Not My Steward. His brother, perhaps, but not Faramir.”  
Imrahil shrugged, “He wasn’t always this way. He used to get himself into quite a bit of trouble, with his brother leading him on every step of the way, of course.” He stood as Faramir and Amrothos both walked up to the verandah on the beach, shaking their hair to get all the water out like dogs. “Well, did you two have a good ride?”  
Faramir smiled and nodded while Amrothos enthused wildly about everything he’d seen. Aragorn couldn’t help but wonder if his steward’s reticence had more to do with his presence or with Faramir’s natural quiet personality. He glanced at Imrahil, who was listening to his son talk about, “Cousin Far.” as if this was an everyday occurrence, and maybe it was. It certainly matched his steward’s behavior up ‘til now. Faramir looked distracted anyway, and looked longingly at the door, when his uncle told him, “Eowyn’s arrived this morning lad. She was asking about you.”  
His uncle chuckled and jerked his head towards the door, and his steward made his exit gratefully, sketching a bow at Aragorn as he left.  
Yes, he looked very much like his brother in this light.

_Faramir had been in his usual spot in the east tower in his uncle’s house, reading his book and licking his wounds from the last encounter with his father when Boromir snuck up on him. He’d known it was his brother from the instant the callused hand slipped over his eyes, still smelling faintly of knife oil. He’d known it was his brother, but, feeling snappish and tired, and wanting to show off a little for Boromir, he’d grabbed his arm and pulled him over the table, pinning his arm behind him._   
_Boromir had laughed, said, “Someone’s been doing his training.” and he’d felt absurdly pleased that he’d managed to get one over on his brother._   
_Boromir had shaken his head, and told him, “But, not quite enough.” And he felt his feet pulled under him as his brother caught him under the shoulders before he fell, before pulling him to his feet to wrap his arms around him, “I missed you, Fara.” he’d said, a smile still in his voice._   
_And Faramir had put his nose in his brother’s shoulder and enjoyed the love._

_Faramir sagged against the wall at the doorway to the east tower and looked_ at the door, thinking of all the times he and Boromir had run up and down those stairs, how many nights they spent in that tower, sleeping on bed rolls and imagining themselves soldiers.  
He laughed at the idea that his childhood has ended up so much like his adulthood, and he thought it funny that he and Boromir were about the same at eight that they were at eighteen, more playmates than grown companions. He missed his playmate, missed the times they pulled pranks. The time Boromir convinced him to bleach his hair, the time they switched all the horses in the guard’s stables, the time they put a very thin layer of wax down on the floor in the receiving rooms. But mostly, he missed his brother. He was too old for such things now - even if according his uncle, he was very young - and no one called him Fara anymore.

Eventually, he sighed, and straightened, and went to see his betrothed. Eowyn gathered him in her arms as soon as she saw him, while Eomer hovered, unsure but sympathetic, one hand on Faramir’s shoulder. He didn’t mind the man his sister had decided to marry; had more kinship with him than with Aragorn.  
Faramir knew what it was to live an entire life at war, then suddenly be lost and aimless without the war, even as you are glad it is over. Faramir also knew about armies and their working, even though he was ranger, and was able to give more advice about how to disperse troops and pay pensions, a question he was struggling with in his own office. And Eomer would have had to be blind not to see the effect the man had had on his sister, even when he was struggling with his own grief.

Faramir let Eowyn guide him to the terrace where tea was already laid out, took a few moments to compose himself, and then smiled at her, asking, “And how are you today my dear?”  
She smiled at him, telling him, “Better than you, it seems.”  
He smiled and nodded, listened to her speak about the wedding for a time before Eomer and he began to speak of pensions and strategies. Before long his uncle and Lothloriel joined them, he would have had to be blind not to see the way her and Eomer kept making eyes at each other. From the slightly suspicious look on his uncle’s face, the older man’s eyesight was still good as well.

He sighed a little as he fingered the hem of his favorite tunic, an old one, from when he was the stewards second son, and not steward himself, and required much less finery on his things. Perhaps that was why he liked it so. He was still a simple man at heart.  
He rose to bow when the king stepped onto the terrace, but the older man surprised him by putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him in his seat. “Not while you are in your own home, Faramir.”  
He blushed a little, but nodded, and looked surprised as the king took the seat next to him, instead of at the head of the table, as was his right. He was even more surprised when Aragorn leaned forward and told him, “You’re simply going to have to tell me how you got that bleach for your hair. I think my brothers would very much appreciate it. Don’t you?”  
He smiled, a little stunned and nodded slowly.  
Maybe he wasn’t too old to have a playmate after all.


End file.
